


Open eyes, closed mouth

by frostedquill



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Bromance, Disability, F/M, Slut Shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 17:37:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3986860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostedquill/pseuds/frostedquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Denethor has a dispute with Boromir; and is heartbroken in the process.Takes place before he leaves for Imladris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open eyes, closed mouth

**Author's Note:**

> Synopsis: Boromir breaks Denethor’s heart.

 

“Faramir. When your brother returns, and I am sure you shall know when he does, send him to my chambers immediately!” Denothor says his voice low but thunderous.

Boromir is twenty-nine and Faramir twenty-four. It is the first time that Faramir has seen his father so furious with Boromir. Normally Faramir is the victim of his irritation and harsh words.

“I do not know what time he is set to return.” Faramir replies soothingly.

“I do not care if he return at the merging of dusk and dawn, you shall send him to my chambers immediately. Be he sober or drunk off his worthless ass.” Denethor’s voice was rising with each syllable until he was almost shouting. “Am I clear Faramir?!”

“Of course f…” but Denethor is walking away before Faramir is able to finish his sentence. Faramir is too stunned to wonder what it is that his brother has done.

Not wanting to upset his father further, Faramir grabs a book and sits at the intersection of his and Boromir’s bedrooms, that is why he is surprised when he hears noise in Boromir’s rooms. _Has he slipped passed me?_ He thinks guiltily glancing at his book. _A thief?_

But it is in fact Boromir. His tunic is on backwards and Faramir can see Boromir’s small cloths through his loosely laced leggings and his hair is a bird’s nest.

“Boromir! Where have you been?” Faramir hisses worried.

“No where that warrants worry little brother.” Boromir says soothingly, but smiles sheepishly at his brother’s disbelieving expression.

“Father is looking for you.”

“I shall see him in the morning. It is late.” He brushes off.

“He is awake and waiting for you.” Faramir whispers. “And he is furious.”

“What have you done to antagonize him? I told you to wait to buy that book on elven lore!” Boromir exclaims.

“It is what you have done. He is furious with you.” Faramir explains coldly.

Boromir looks concerned then turns to leave. _Is that a bonnet hanging from the back of his neck?_

“How bad is it?” Boromir asks the guards who seem startled to see him. He knows them well enough to have picked them to guard his father. They glance at eachother and back at Boromir.

“Terrible.” They said unanimously.

“My lord you might want to wipe your mouth.” one mutters, which Boromir does promptly before entering the antechamber.

“Father.” Boromir calls out.

Denethor slips out of his wife’s chambers. Finduilas had never used them preferring to spend her nights with her husband and had instead converted them into bedrooms for her sons when they were young. Ironically those rooms were now banned to Faramir and Boromir. Yet they knew that two small beds could still be found, along with several portraits of the deceased lady. Denethor sometimes went there with a bottle of wine to calm himself down. That night he had chosen to remain sober and his wife’s memory did nothing to sooth him.

“Boromir.” Denethor’s voice was cold and his eyes sharp. Boromir sorely wished that his father had indulged in the wine.

“Father.” Boromir returned the greeting with as charming a smile as he could. It was a terrible idea.

“Are you finished with your wenching Boromir? Or should I say whoring, because I do not know if you have now included men in the number of your conquests.” Denethor asked coldly. “If so I would like to talk. For the past ten years I have closed my eyes to your numerous dalliances. No more.”

“I do not know what you speak of.”

“Lady Irimë wife of councellor Amitrad, lady Anselm wife of lord Túrin, not to mention the countless other women you have been with. Are their names familiar to you or do you erase them from your memory as soon as you are done using them? Tell me do you bed your men’s wives as well?”

“I would never…”

“Well it seems you do have some moral boundaries.” Denethor exclaimed in false glee. “I admit I closed my eyes. You were young and are destined to lead our people against what may be the most difficult era of our history. However you are no longer a newly initiated soldier, you are a captain of the citadel! Yet you toy with these women like a child. That you wench around like some young lad so be it but to share yourself with married highborn maidens is too much!!! Have you no respect for them? Have no respect for yourself? For your rank? Your people? Or this family?”

Boromir decided best to wait.

“Can you not speak? Have you left your tongue up some whore’s cunt?” It was the first time Boromir had heard such language from his father. “Were she alive, your mother would be ashamed of your behavior. Have you no shame?”

“I do not understand your anger. I am an unattached soldier who finds pleasure in the fairer sex. I have always been honest and respectful with those I bed. I am not attracted towards my sex if that is your concern, though I find nothing wrong with those who have such a preference. I try to be discreet, no matter the lady’s birth, and I have not bedded the ladies you have named above. ” Boromir explained (though he had bedded Irimë).

Denethor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Boromir…” he began more calmly. “Your behavior is immoral. How can you share yourself with so many women? So many strangers? It makes no sense to me. Did I not raise you better? I understand that you have physical urges but have you so little control over yourself that you must indulge in them at every opportunity.”

“I do not indulge myself at every opportunity. I am not some animal.”

“No, from what I hear an animal has more restraint.” Denethor says dismissively. A hurt look crosses Boromir’s face.

“I have honorably risen through our ranks, I have never hurt another for pleasure, I find ways to reduce the numbers of casualties and bring victory, I try to be kind, and again I am respectful of my partners and others. I have my faults, arrogance and, yes, lust are amongst them but to say that I am simply an animal in search of its next rut… Is that truly what you think of me?”

Denethor looks at his sons pained face, and sees a familiar emptiness in his eyes. “You know that I do not think so lowly of you. All you have done these past year has made me proud. But such an immoral lifestyle cannot be condoned. A foot soldier can remain unattached not the future captain of the white tower. You need a wife, yet all know of your licentious habits and I doubt there is a woman of high birth or even low birth who would be willing to be your wife no matter your position.”

“You underestimate the viciousness of the Highborn. Trust me, if the ladies my ages are not ferocious you best remember the fierceness of their mothers.” Boromir returned drily.

“Be that it may, how shall you inspire confidence in the council of lords when it is your turn to rule? Some will damn well outlive me, and will not look at your accomplishments but your behavior, no matter how scandalous they behave in private. Their heirs will carry the same attitude as them.”

Boromir began to look sickly.

“Boromir, had you had a lover of lower rank I would accept and maneuver for the two of you to marry, a lover of the same sex I would forcibly swallow it with a liberal amount of wine, but you jump from bed to bed with no care. Your lack of stability in your personal affairs, will make others think it translates in other areas of your life as well. _Why can you not be more like Faramir in these matters_? At least he does not see fit to dip his cock in every moving woman though undoubtedly because you’ve had them all.”

Boromir did not know what surprised him more, that his father placed Faramir in a positive light in contrast to Boromir or how long he could lecture. Tired of the unending criticism he decided to end the discussion.

“I shall not marry.” Boromir proclaimed.

“What of heirs?” Denethor asks sarcastically.

“Faramir will provide them. As you have seen fit to outline he is more suited to providing the heirs befitting our name.”

“You are being serious.” Denethor exclaimed shocked.

“Yes.”

“I do not understand what you are saying, it is your duty to provide heirs to our house. Boromir are you afraid of commitment?” Denethor asks carefully. He could finally comprehend what was going on with his son. He himself had been weary of attachments until he met Finduilas. “I know that love may seem terrifying but it is worth it? Are you in love with someone? Are they not worthy of your love? Are they from Harad? Are you afraid to love them? Boromir let me reassure that even I did not hope to find love with someone, but to experience what your mother and I had you should only be lucky. Perhaps loosing her so early…”

“No…”

“To what?”

“All the above. I have no need for heirs because I shall not be steward after you. Faramir shall succeed you not I.” Boromir told him bravely.

“I do not…”

“Father…”

“You spit on your birthright?”

“I do not spit on it.”

“What is it…”

“Father of the two of us Faramir is the better candidate. He has your intelligence, your wit and foresight.” Boromir explained. “He is literate.” He finished.

“Boromir…” Denethor began softly.

“Father, I cannot read or write properly. I can barely spell my own name. You say all I do is wench, but to read a full contract it takes me an entire day. Those contracts that lord Antas sent me, which I had conveniently forgotten about. It…it took me three full days to read because they were long and I had to constantly go back to different parts because I could not remember what they said. It took me another two to draft responses because I spent a great amount of time making sure that the words I wrote corresponded to those he wrote. I have seen you in action drafting contracts, negotiating trade agreement all through paper but I cannot do the same. So far I have managed to reroute most of my paperwork to Faramir, or I have someone else read it for me while I pretend to read some other document. Some of these information that these contracts contain I get prior notice from the pretty wives who like calloused soldiers in their beds.”

“Boromir…” Denethor protests feebly.

“They float, fly off the page change shape and color before my eyes, and even disappear. Not the words, the _letters_.”

“Your mother… She learned how to read properly, eventually. So you should not give up. It takes time. I helped her learn I can help you also. I should never have left you in the hands of Losdir, and of your aunt.”

“Father.” Boromir cried earnestly. “There is nothing you can do for me. If it was not for the efforts of Losdir and of my aunt I would be nowhere. Also I am sorry father, mother was no better than I am, however she had an extraordinary auditive memory and I don’t.”

“I made sure that your mother read books she hadn’t heard before.” Denethor corrected. Finduilas once had people read to her to memorize texts and Denethor had gone to great lengths to make sure she not give in temptation.

“You underestimated her skill. She knew how to read enough to struggle through books and chapters, and read to herself aloud. Depending on the text it took once.”

“Boromir.” Denethor began.

“I am not afraid of commitment and I do want love, but I do not want to have what you and mother had!” Boromir exclaims.

“What your mother and I had…” Denethor starts angrily.

“Was beautiful.” Boromir finished. “I always admired your love and dedication for each other. But I watched you lie for her, how carefully she planned everything... I do not want to have a wife forced to keep such a secret, to always worry that I would be found out. I do not want a spouse who resents me…”

“I never!”

“I know but she resented herself.” Boromir said softly.

Denethor said nothing. He had never cared, this odd disability never bothered him. In truth he was amazed, it was her incredible mind that first caught his attention and to know that she was so knowledgeable and intelligent despite her odd condition made him love her more. Yet this small slight of nature always hung heavy on her heart and weight that was made even worse when they discovered that their heir had the same condition.

“I do not want to have another illiterate heir to the highest seat in Gondor. I do not want to give this to a child of mine. Mother was the lady of this house, her task while challenging allowed her minimal correspondence. I am to inherit your tasks, you love me but have you ever considered what it would mean to have me in your seat? All that could go wrong because of a single floating _letter_. Do you know what it is like to constantly watch your back so no one discovers your weakness? How odd you feel? I am lonely and being with these numerous women gives me a hint of what it must be like at least for a short period of time because I cannot form a permanent attachment to them.”

“When were you going to tell me you felt like this?”

“I was hoping you’d die and I would abdicate my right to Faramir. People would believe my preference to lead our troops over pushing paper.”

“You would never have told me?” Denethor asked numbly. He is shocked and feels betrayed. Why would Boromir go behind his back to do this? Does he think him weak.

“You have so many worries already...” Boromir says softly, and the anger arising in Denethor’s heart is extinguished. “I know you think I would make a great steward but you should place your faith in Faramir, not I.”

Denethor closes his eyes and travels back in time. He remembers Finduilas’s look of horror when it comes to light that their eldest is like her. _With my father’s declining health you’ll have to teach him dearest,_ he tells her, _what better teacher could he asks for then the one who shares his condition?_ Their small family would overcome this difficulty, he had thought. He remembers their glee that Faramir was normal. He remembers Finduilas’s impatient rebuttals when Boromir failed to memorize a passage. Her teaching Boromir things other than his letters. He remembers her forgetting Boromir’s lessons to cater to Faramir. He remembers being afraid to upset her due to her frail health. How many times had he asked her in his mind to pay attention to the son who needed her most? _How can you neglect him when he shares something so fundamental with you?_ He had not asked that either. He remembered reading to his eldest late at night, waking him in the early mornings for another story, commissioning books 3/4 pictures for his son. He remembers Boromir’s shy smiles when he came in, his admiring smiles when he read to him so easily. How he would giggle while trying to catch the letters that were flying off. He remembers being torn between fascination and irritation at the condition, sometimes amusement. He remembers Boromir plopping a book on top of a page to stop the letters from flying off. _They aren’t flying anymore but I can’t see Papa?!_ And Boromir looks to him, his hero, for a solution he does not have. _It is better that you teach him Denethor, that he understands he has your love no matter the situation is._ She tells him as she smiles at Faramir reading the  lay of belriand, the excuse is feeble. _He needs to know that you love him too_ , and he is terrified to ask if she does.Then Ecthelion II dies.

He opens his eyes to look at his son now fully grown. He is intelligent in ways that amazes Denethor. Boromir is athletically inclined and it takes little time for him to learn to fight, to ride, even to sail; It probably took little time for him to learn how to please women. He also has an eye for strategy, and the gift adapt to foreign situations; Boromir can assess their enemies’ strength and weaknesses with great accuracy, as well as producing simple and efficient battle plans, he can even predict some of their attacks. Denethor refuses to play board games with Boromir. He also knows how to inspire confidence in men and bring about the best in them. He does not have his mother’s extraordinary memory, or Denethor’s booksmarts, but he is extraordinary in his own way, but does not see it.

“You may go to bed.” Denethor says finally. “You must be tired.” He says more tenderly though it comes out gruff.

“Thank you.” Boromir hesitates.

“This discussion is not over.” Denethor warns. They will finish it tomorrow because it _is_ late and he has a rendez-vous with a bottle of wine.

Boromir nods, grateful and turns to walk away. Something catches Denethor’s eyes.

“Boromir…”

“Yes.”

“Why do you have a bonnet around your neck?” Denethor asks tiredly.

“I… I was meeting a woman, of noble birth for a thrist, when her husband returned early. I could not find all of my clothing so I hid. He was coming in my direction, the husband, and there was a dress lying there along with some women’s product so I disguised myself as a soubrette to escape.”

“You may go.” Denethor said closing his eyes.

“It was not that bad. The breeze beneath was…”

“Go, Boromir.” Denethor groaned. “And wipe the rouge from your mouth.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> In this story Finduilas was prone to tachycardia and developed high blood pressure due to the stress in her life (not just in Minas Tirith). She and Boromir had dyslexia. Faramir doesn't know the extent of his brother's condition and just thinks his brother is a slow reader.  
> This idea came to me once I realized that some conditions weren't necessarily modern but hidden. I'm sure I got some of this wrong, tell me and I'll fix it.  
> I hope to dive deeper into this series.


End file.
